


Persephone

by whateverhappensnext



Category: Ancient Egyptian Religion, 엔네아드 ENNEAD (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27221056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whateverhappensnext/pseuds/whateverhappensnext
Summary: The night he ascends the throne of Egypt, Horus dreams of red hair.Or, what happens when the god of sand is gone.
Relationships: Horus/Set, Osiris/Set
Comments: 14
Kudos: 247





	1. Chapter 1

The night that Horus, god of the sky, ascended to the throne, Seth was nowhere to be found. The remaining gods at Heliopolis shrugged. It escaped no one’s notice, however, that the Great Ennead had been reduced to seven. Six, truthfully, as Nephthys was still a shadow of herself, barely leaving her quarters. Horus heard murmurs that Seth and Anubis had journeyed to Duat, the land of the dead, but he tried to put it out of his mind. He ruled over the living now.

Horus kept the octahedron containing Seth’s divinity on a golden chain around his neck. He peered into it, at the swirling specks of golden sand, as if he might find his uncle within.

That night, he dreamed of long red hair and defiant, kohl-rimmed eyes. As the stars shifted in the sky, so too did Horus’ vision. He was pinning his uncle down against the earthen floor, summoning sharp vines around his sinewy arms and thin ankles to hold him still. Beautiful. If Hathor was the goddess of elemental love, surely Seth, the deity of thunder and lightning, was the god of this lust within him. He held fast to Seth’s thighs and thrust into the writhing body below. When he looked into Seth’s glassy, watery eyes, he could see his face reflected. But it was not his own face, was it? It was that of his father. Osiris.

Despite Isis’ pleas, Horus flew to Duat the next evening. The underworld was damp and dark, and he could hardly see where he was going.

“This way,” he heard a familiar voice say.

“Anubis?” Horus said. He followed echoing footfalls and the shadowy head of a jackal, deeper and deeper, into what felt like the very bowels of the earth itself.

Finally, after what felt like fathoms deep, they stepped into a polished obsidian receiving hall. On the other end, Horus caught a glimpse of a palatial cavern, which resembled to his eye the night sky. Anubis held out an arm to stop him. “Cousin, I must weigh your heart before you can enter.”

“I’m a god, and Osiris is my father,” Horus protested. “I cannot see my own father?”

With a wry smile so unlike the child-like Anubis whom Horace knew, the jackal shook his head. Before Horace could resist, he reached inside Horace’s chest and pulled out his heart. Producing a scale out of absolutely nowhere, he weighed it against a glowing blue feather. The scale tipped towards his heart for a moment, then back the other way. “You seek truth,” Anubis nodded approvingly. “You may enter.”

The cavern seemed larger than Heliopolis itself, and the only way that Horus knew they remained underground was the glint of the distant black glass walls, reflecting a thousand tiny blue flames. In the center were two thrones, one gold and one silver, though both the lord of the underworld and his brother shared one. Seth was perched on Osiris’ left thigh, his divine headdress nowhere to be seen. Instead, his long red strands draped freely over his back. The once-powerful god of war seemed neither sad nor disappointed, simply blank. As Horus approached the throne, he saw that the two brothers were working in tandem, going through the the ghostly ranks of the dead. Osiris, it seemed, would summon a departed soul, and with a flick of his wrist Seth would render the soul into a thousand grains of sand.

“I thought you couldn’t do that anymore,” Horus said dumbly, fingering the pendant of Seth’s divinity around his neck. The brothers seemed terribly comfortable together.

“Horus,” Osiris greeted his heir, running his hands protectively down Seth’s torso. “You come to the land of the dead to seek the truth.”

“Why is he here,” Horus said, gritting his teeth.

“Haven’t you tortured me enough,” Seth said sourly. “I literally went to the land of the dead to get away from you, and here you show up not 24 hours later.”

“But you hate him,” Horus sputtered, shaking his head. He looked at the ground. “I saw in my dreams last night the night I violated you. But it wasn’t me. It was him. He coveted you and took you too, didn’t he? And now you’re in his arms.”

Seth hopped down from the throne, his red hair dancing behind him. “Do you know what separates gods from humans, little bird?” Seth said.

Horus shook his head numbly.

“Humans are grains of sand, helpless against the wind,” Seth said. He turned to another soul that had entered the hall, a shadowy form of an old wizened man, crumbling it too into a formless pile of sand.

“But gods are the wind. Everything that occurs to us is ultimately by our own allowance. We allow ourselves to be weak, to be taken, because,” he shuddered, seemingly overtaken by a chill in the air. Osiris walked up from behind Seth, enveloping him in an intimate embrace.

“Because it is in your nature,” Osiris finished. He pressed his thumb against Seth’s full lower lip, earning a shiver from his younger brother. Horus was half-afraid the two would become intimate right in front of him, but thankfully Osiris let Seth go.

“He doesn’t belong here,” Horus said. The fiery god of desert and chaos had no place in the dark, cold land of the dead.

Seth looked at him with wide eyes, the same ones that Horus fell in love with as a child. “Neither do you,” he said simply. With a howling wind, Horus felt himself swept into the cavernous ceiling above, his wings caught in a maelstrom and his father and Seth getting ever so smaller. He reached for Seth. _Come with me_ , he wanted to say. _I love you._

Horus awoke face up in the sand. It was still dark. The Milky Way above looked so very much like the underworld below.

“Where have you been?” Isis shouted when Horus trudged back to Heliopolis.

“I found Seth,” Horus said hoarsely. “He’s in the land of the dead.” His hands remained clutched around the pendant.

“Ha!” Isis laughed. “What a fool. Without his divinity, he’ll never be able to return.”

Horus ignored her. “If one of Seth’s crimes is attempting to take you by force,” Horus said, “Then why are father and I not punished? We both violated him.”

Isis dropped the dish she was holding.

“You can only punish a god who’s willing,” Sekhmet said, prowling in at precisely the wrong time as usual.

Horus groaned. “Then I accept my punishment.”

“Oh, dear sweet Horus,” the goddess of destruction sing-songed. “You’re already punishing yourself.”

“You must forget Seth,” Isis said, cursing her brother. “We will go to Hathor tomorrow to put an end to this sickness.”

“No!” Horus said. The last thing he wanted was to forget his uncle. He had waited to see Seth again ever since meeting him that one day as a child.

Sekhmet smiled toothily, and the second evening of the sky god’s reign came to a close.


	2. Chapter 2

The higher Horus flew, the closer he was to the sun, yet the colder it was. Strange.

From high above, he could see vivid green spilling out from the Nile on all sides. Tendrils of black earth crept into the desert, growing bolder with each passing day. With the god of the desert in the land of the dead, the sands offered no resistance. 

If Horus had flown east, past the desert, he would have seen a fog of dust. The gathering of the Sumerian army. They had been repelled by Seth countless times, but with whispers of a changing of the guard and an inexplicable calm in the desert storms, they were preparing to strike again. 

“Where have you been?” Isis said waspishly, when Horus alighted in Heliopolis. The sun was high and dry and in the sky. “It’s almost midday.”

“Sorry mother,” Horus said. 

“You cannot fly every morning, Horus,” Isis said. “You’ve only been king for a week. There is much to do.”

Horus nodded. With Isis at the helm, the peoples’ lives had improved tremendously. The crops grew easily, the harvest was bountiful, and there were no more storms in the sky. What more could the people want?

“Your head’s in the clouds again,” Isis observed. 

“I’m just thinking,” Horus said. 

Isis narrowed her eyes. “About who?” she said.

“Nobody!” Horus said. 

“You should speak to Hathor,” Isis said. “She loves you.”

Horus frowned. The mention of Hathor made him think of the mysterious green mirror, still sitting in his room. “I don’t have the time,” Horus said.

“Tch,” Isis said. “A king has two duties, to rule and to produce heirs. Hathor is fertile.”

Horus turned away. If he told his mother the truth, she would fly into a rage. Or, rather, if he spoke aloud what they both knew to be true. He stayed silent.

A dense fog settled over the Nile that afternoon. At first the people were joyous, as it shielded them from the sun’s punishing rays. But if the fog continued, the crops would die. Isis had a very good idea of the culprit.

That evening, Horus heard a knock on his door.

“Hathor,” he said, greeting his guest. He could not turn her away. She was still the daughter of the sun god, after all, and the goddess of love to boot.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your crown, Horus,” she said, touching his arm.

“Thank you,” he said, letting her in.

Her eye caught the green mirror, still sitting on his armoire. “Have you used my gift?” she said.

“The mirror?” he said. 

She picked it up and gazed lovingly at its dull surface. “It shows our true self. Our desire. Our soul.”

“Do gods have souls?”

“Of course,” she said, as if he’d asked a silly question.

“Can it … imprison people, this mirror?” Horus said.

Hathor frowned. “That’s a very specific question,” she said, raising her eyebrow.

“Just a hypothetical,” Horus coughed.

“It cannot imprison people, no,” Hathor said. “But I suppose if someone became so detached from their true self, then the true self would retreat to this mirror.”

Horus nodded, thinking of Nephthys and her regret and self-loathing, shuttered in just a few rooms away. “What do you see in the mirror, Hathor?”

“Me?” Hathor said, her face flushing. “I see you. I see us,” she said, touching his cheek.

Hathor was beautiful, Horus knew. Even without the color around her eyes and the gold dangling from her hair and ears, she had a pleasing heart-shaped face, large bright eyes, full black eyelashes, and flawless skin. So why could he not love her?

“Why can’t you control love?” he said.

“Ah,” she sighed awkwardly. “So I’ve been found out.” 

“I can only do it among humans,” she said. “But I cannot overcome another god’s will. I thought maybe if I caught you before you became a god I might stand a chance.” She looked at him sadly.

“Would you have me love you?” Horus asked plaintively. If it were true, it would be so much easier, wouldn’t it?

Hathor held the mirror up. Horus tried to see a womanly figure, bright eyes … but instead Seth’s face stared back, tear stained as it appeared centuries ago, then smiling. She set the mirror down. “You can’t say things you don’t believe, Horus,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted. “Or you’ll end up in the mirror as well.”

He wanted to apologize, but he caught himself. He wasn’t sorry, was he? He did feel badly. There was a path that ran through Hathor, a soft, well-trodden path through a lush green forest filled with the laughter of many children. 

“Don’t feel badly,” Hathor said, walking towards his door. “I’ll tell you a secret. It’s very hard to change the course of love, even for humans.”

“Is it?” Horus said. “Even for the goddess of love?”

Hathor nodded with a small smile. “Raising the sun, sprinkling the stars across the sky, creating life from the lifeless … that’s easy.”

“Don’t let the sun god hear you say that,” Horus said.

Hathor giggled. “Even corruption is easy,” she said. “Oh, I’m good at that, but Sekhmet is better of course. But love? When the soul and body are perfectly aligned towards one … it’s much harder to control.”

On the seventh night of his reign, Horus lay awake, thinking of his red-haired beloved in the land of the dead. He knew what he had to do.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

“Father.”

“Father, wake up.”

Seth blearily opened his eyes. The shackles of Maat were still there. 

A face looked at him sadly. A face very much like his own, but shadowed with the head of a jackal.

“Anubis,” Seth said. So the boy had grown after all.

“Father, do you trust me?” Anubis said.

Seth chuckled. Trust? He trusted Osiris once. Look where it had landed him. His cycle had come to an end, and he was impotent in every sense, unable to command even a grain of sand. He looked at Anubis through narrowed eyes. “You needn’t call me father. You needn’t rescue me either.” 

To Seth’s utter surprise, the jackal started crying. Not loud, wailing sobs as he did when he was a child, but tears nonetheless. “I’m sorry,” Anubis said, his voice cracking, throwing himself at the god.

As much as Seth wanted to hate his son for what he'd done, what he had wrought out of utter ignorance--because, despite what he said, Anubis was still his son--Seth did not push his embrace away.

After a minute, Anubis collected himself, as if remembering that real gods didn't go crying to their fathers. “I blamed you for everything, for mother, for myself. But now that I've grown ...."

He drew out a scale, seemingly out of nowhere. On one side lay a single blue feather. With slight hesitation, he reached out to Seth, then grasped his heart.

“The truth,” he said, as he placed Seth’s heart on the scale. It dipped downwards for a moment, then the two sides drew even. “I weighed your soul and I saw the truth. I know what Osiris did. I know what mother did.” 

Seth stared at his erstwhile son stonily, unimpressed with the belated revelations. The truth had little currency now. Crimes were crimes, and he had slain plenty of mortals. The shackles of Maat were unbreakable.

“I know what we must do," Anubis said. "We must go to the land of the dead."

Finally, Seth spoke. “Are you fucking insane?” he spat, tugging at his chains. “Did that little scale of yours show all of what he did to me? What he almost did to you?” But as he thrashed, he knew Anubis was right. It was the only place to go, unless he fancied being chained to the ground for hundreds of years in Heliopolis.

“It’s the only way,” Anubis said. “Since your soul is truthful, I can guide you to the underworld. Osiris will have no choice but to let you in.”

Seth chuckled. So Anubis had been spared the graphic details. “That’s not what I’m afraid of,” he said.

As Seth expected, Osiris welcomed them to Duat with open arms. Too open. Almost as if he had foreseen their arrival. Whatever. Seth rubbed his wrists, still chaffed from the shackles.

Anubis settled into his role, judging the souls of the newly deceased, a time-consuming process previously performed by Osiris himself. The heavy, irreparable souls he burned with a blue flame. The pure souls, few and far between, earned entry to the field of reeds. The unwashed masses in between, Seth cleansed and dissipated to the sands of time, destined for another life cycle.

They must have been in Duat for days now, no, weeks. Seth had lost track of time. Nevermind. He had spent hundreds of years as the ruler of Egypt, and he expected it would be several hundred more before he returned to the living. A part of him had always known that the god of storms and sands was not meant to rule over the black soil of the Nile. Though, he thought wryly, he suspected that the Ennead would miss his presence soon enough. A people with no thought for war were easily conquered by the enemy. Even more so once the protective sands on either side were swept away.

Besides, at least Osiris was kind to Anubis. At least Anubis had a place in Duat, no longer the neglected child of a despised king. He did have to endure Osiris’ affections, but. At least his brother hadn’t conjured those cursed flowers again.

Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear.

“I never tire of seeing you,” Osiris said.

Seth turned around, and let Osiris pull him close, pressing their lips together. 

Seth moaned into the kiss as Osiris carded his fingers through his brother’s long red hair. Without his divinity, Seth no longer wore his headdress. Finally Seth pushed away, wiping his mouth. His eyes narrowed. “I wish I could say the same,” he said. It was the most cruelty he would allow of himself. He was acutely aware that Osiris could make his existence thoroughly miserable, if he chose.

Ignoring the barb, Osiris smiled indulgently and carried his brother to the bed, depositing his pale limbs on the white sheets. 

Without the daily trials of war, Seth had grown soft. He squirmed as Osiris fingered him open, but otherwise offered no resistance. “You’re wet,” Osiris said approvingly. Seth had started getting wet after a few nights in Duat. Undoubtedly some sick side effect of Osiris’ magic. Perhaps his brother hadn’t forgotten about creating a child after all.

“What did you do,” Seth said hoarsely, as Osiris worked him open with two probing fingers.

“A womb,” Osiris said, withdrawing and examining his slick-soaked fingers. “You’ll have a womb. Not yet, but it should be ready soon.” 

At this point, Seth wasn’t even surprised. “You sick fuck,” he breathed.

He was silenced as Osiris pushed into him, bracing himself over Seth’s smaller body.

“I can’t help myself,” Osiris said, as he thrust into his younger brother, his mouth hot against Seth’s ear. He reached down to Seth’s chest, stroking his nipples to hardness and eliciting a reluctant moan. 

Seth tried to focus only on pleasure, on the thick cock rhythmically pounding deep inside. Finally, Osiris came with a groan and collapsed on the bed, and for a moment the two were brothers again, side by side.

“I can’t control myself around you,” Osiris said, tracing a finger down Seth’s cheek. Osiris, the god of life, death, and order, was drawn interminably to chaos. 

“I know,” Seth said sadly.

-

“I must say, Isis,” Sekhmet said silkily, “you’ve done an incredible job with the place.”

“What do you want,” Isis said coldly. It never a good sign when the goddess of destruction was roaming about. 

“The fields are wet and green, the harvest is rich, the people never want for sustenance, and they’re breeding like rabbits, to boot. But don’t you hear a rumbling to the east?” Sekhket said, turning to the high sun overhead. “It sounds utterly delightful.”

“What are you talking about?” Isis said, annoyed.

Horus alighted on the steps, transforming from falcon to man. “The Sumerian army is gathering in the east,” he said.

“They’re always gathering,” Isis said dismissively. “They’ll never reach Egypt, no army can make it through two weeks in the desert.”

“Ah, but they’re almost here,” Horus said. “I saw them, they’re a quarter way through the desert and they only just started this morning. At this rate, they’ll be here by tomorrow nightfall.”

“How!” Isis said, getting to her feet. She glared at Sekhmet, then stormed towards the hall of the sun god.

“It’s because the desert is fading away,” Horus said, “isn’t it? Because he isn’t here.”

“Ah, you’re smarter than you look, birdbrain!” the lion-headed goddess chuckled. They both heard a shriek from the hallway above, undoubtedly from Isis. “Sounds like she just figured it out.”


	4. Chapter 4

To the primordial gods of the sun, sky, earth, and sea, warfare was simply an expression of nature. What difference did it make to them if the men who built their temples were Egyptian or Sumerian. Or, indeed, what difference did it make if there were men at all?

Suffice to say, Isis, wife of the late king of Egypt and now mother of its new lord, took a decidedly different view. Egypt could not fall.

She pled her case to the Ennead, who sat immobile on their thrones.

“Can’t he simply use this power?” Isis said, gesturing at the pendant around Horus’ neck. Imprisoned within was the divinity of Seth, god of war and Egypt’s erstwhile protector. Surely, this was at their disposal?

“He cannot,” Maat said. “It is Seth’s divinity, and it does not belong to Horus.”

“Cannot or should not?” Isis snorted. Were they afraid that Horus, gaining Seth’s dominion over sands and storms, would grow too powerful for even the Ennead?

“If we unlock the divinity, it will find Seth, no matter where he is, and rejoin with him,” Maat said.

“Then, I must go and fight the army myself,” Horus said. “I should have stopped the troops today, when I saw them.”

“Ah, ah,” Sekhmet interrupted, too gleefully shaking her head. “Men must fight men. But, sure, go lead an army or conjure a storm if you must.”

“Are you all just going to sit here like statues?” Isis shouted.

“Sekhmet is right,” Thoth said finally. “Seth would always repel invaders by sand or sea storm. Though, I believe he did raise an army one time.”

“Useless,” Isis mumbled, not too softly. No wonder Seth had held onto power for centuries.

“An … an army?” Horus said. 

Warfare, it turned out, was the last thing on the people’s minds. 

When Horus finally uncovered a roster of able-bodied men that his uncle had drawn up, he found that most of the men had settled down, taking advantage of an unexpectedly long fertile season.

He had one day before the Sumerian army crossed the great eastern desert.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Isis said, as she saw Horus fiddle with the gold chain around his neck. “Don’t you dare release him! We can still raise a storm.”

Horus nodded. 

At nightfall, Horus flew back out to the eastern desert, searching the sands for an encampment. Finally, he saw them - a sea of tents, otherwise defenseless. There must have been nearly a thousand men. Isis followed not far behind, using her magic to transport herself to his side. But the remainder of the Ennead, to her disgust, remained still, sleeping soundly in Heliopolis as their temple fires burned low.

With great effort, Isis was able to harden some of the sand to rock, encircling the Sumerians on all sides. With the flapping of his wings, Horus created a small windtunnel that threw the slumbering Sumerians into disarray.

Once the sands cleared, Horus perched on the sandstone wall as he watched the Sumerians shout in confusion, tripping over one another in the night.

He did not see that he was no longer alone.

“Who are you?” a thunderous voice echoed, seemingly from the sky above.

Horus leapt up, hovering midair. Ahead of him, he saw a form emerge from whirling sands, a bearded man with four wings where Horus only had two, wearing a golden horned crown, bathed in unmistakeable divine light. “You are not Seth,” the man said, appearing faintly disappointed. He smirked, and in a moment Isis’ wall of sandstone was ground to dust.

“My people called for me, and imagine my surprise when I see they are battling not just one god, but two,” the bearded man said. “And no men to be seen,” he said, squinting into the desert.

“If you want to fight, young god, we will fight.”

As soon as the bearded man flapped his four wings, Horus felt a gust of wind so strong he nearly blacked out, and before he could retaliate, he found himself swept all the way back to the banks of the Nile, with a hearty laugh ringing in his ears.

“Who was that?” he said hoarsely, as Isis was flung to the ground not a moment later.

“A Sumerian god,” Isis said, standing as if she hadn’t been knee deep in soil. “Enlil. I did not think he would show his face … it’s been a millennia since he was defeated.” 

“Who defeated him?” Horus said, as they trudged back to Heliopolis.

Isis glared. “We’ll have to raise an army,” she continued, ignoring his question. “And meet them at dusk tomorrow.”

“We don’t have much time,” Horus said. The octahedral pendant around his neck glowed, as if begging to be set free.

“Don’t you dare,” Isis hissed. “I did not suffer centuries of torture to see anything other than you be king. You are strong, my son. This is the first trial in your reign, and you will pass. You don’t need that murderer.”

“He murdered Osiris because he was taken by force,” Horus said. “He is your brother, and you were both wronged.”

Isis stared at him, horrified. “Don’t tell me you believe him! Osiris desired him, but he allowed it! He probably encouraged it! We were so happy, your father and I, until he decided he needed more. He and Nephthys always coveted what your father and I had.”

Horus was silent. He could not argue with the woman who had suffered centuries trying to hide him in the marshes, in the lowest places on earth. The only man who could tell her the honest truth was in the underworld, a man who had forsaken them both.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diverges from the manga somewhat, as I haven't read the raws. Sorry!

Horus grew up hearing whispers of a mighty emperor-god who had every grain of sand at his command. From the people, he heard that Seth was a fierce warrior who brought would-be invaders to heel, who was feared even by other gods. But whose cruelty filled the Nile with blood and poisoned the soil. Nothing would grow. His mother cursed the war god as well, the usurper who had murdered her husband and his own brother. A monster who deserved nothing less than to burn in Duat eternally.

But the more he heard, the curiouser he became. His own uncle, his own blood. How much of a monster could he be? He knew he had a cousin, older than him, who lived the pampered life of a prince. He wondered if his uncle, too, was as overbearing with his son as Isis was. This was the man he was destined to overthrow, his mother whispered into his ear every day. _He’s not your uncle, he’s a tyrant. With you, I’ll make him pay._ When he was a child, that violent inheritance seemed so far away. More than anything, he desired with all his heart to see his uncle up close. Just once.

They made a rare visit to Heliopolis on the anniversary of his father’s death, when the king was supposed to be away at war. Heliopolis was quiet that evening, and Horus suspected that his mother had gone to plead her case to the unmoving statues in the temple once again. Rather than follow her down that futile path, Horus left her side and wandered into another hall, strewn with broken vases and overturned goblets. What had happened here? 

A dim torch still burned in the corner, and Horus approached steadily, holding his dagger in hand as his mother had told him. Always on guard.

“Anubis?” he heard a muffled sob.

Anubis was the name of his cousin, wasn’t it? Horus walked closer to the light.

The man before him was the most beautiful creature that Horus had ever seen. Could this really be the loathsome god of war?

"Ah!" Horus let out a soft shout as the long red-haired man reached out and pulled him close.

“My son,” he cried. He skin was so warm, like sun-beaten sand. “I’m so sorry you were born into this-- _hic_ \--messed up family.”

His uncle must have been drunk, Horus thought, mistaking him for Anubis. But Horus felt his dagger drop at his side, and he couldn’t push away. Had he ever been held this way? 

“I’m sorry you haven’t been able to grow,” his uncle said, his crimson eyes wet with tears. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine, and this cursed pantheon we belong to.”

“It’s okay,” Horus managed to choke out, hoping he didn’t give himself away. “It’s okay, father.”

“No matter what happens in the future, I’ll always love you,” his uncle said, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Even if you kill me, I’ll still love you.” Horus shivered. Had he been found out? But the arms around him slowly fell away. Horus exhaled in relief. The god of war had fallen asleep. He looked much younger than Horus had imagined. His skin was lighter than anyone Horus had seen, his hair was an unnatural red, and for a fearsome warrior he seemed to have no scars. 

“Horus? Horus where are you?” he heard his mother’s cries echoing outside. Casting one last glance at the sleeping red-haired god, he blew out the torch and slipped outside. Maybe, one day, they could escape together.

-

Luring men away from fertile land and fertile wives was harder than expected. When Horus spread the word of a rapidly advancing Sumerian army, the people scoffed at the idea that the Sumerians could reach the Nile, pointing to the harsh and unforgiving eastern desert. A desert that, unbeknownst to them, grew weaker and weaker with each passing day.

Horus could hear their disgruntled chatter in homesteads and dens, disbelieving voices echoing around fires and drifting into the air like smoke.

“This never happened before,” one man said, dumbfounded. He had lost two young children during Seth’s reign, but his wife was still young, and the dead were seemingly forgotten.

The village priest, who had been around long before any of them, corrected him. “Seth raised a legendary army once, many centuries ago,” he said. “The Sumerian god of wind and storm whipped the Nile into a whirlpool that reached the heavens, and the god of war evacuated the river bank and sent hoards of furious Egyptian men to Sumer, which forced Enlil back home.”

The younger men inclined their heads in interest, already growing nostalgic for a heroic time long gone. “It’s only been a few days with the new ruler, and already we are asked to fight!” one of them interrupted indignantly. “At least Seth protected the land,” he said, and the others nodded in agreement, eager for any reason to stay firmly planted in fertile, black soil. The priest remained silent, wondering where this god of war was. 

Horus flew away. This would not do.

“Ungrateful wretches,” Isis said, when he returned empty handed. “The memory of man is short. They’ve already forgotten the hardships they faced under Seth’s rule. Do they think these crops grow for free?”

Overnight, the goddess of magic drained life from the crops, spurring the men into action. Full, golden wheat inexplicably dessicated into inedible brown stalks. Fat white onions grew black in the soil, and grapes withered on the vine, overrun with pestilence. It pained them both to see the fruits of Egypt die, but they had no other choice.

At last, scores of men began to fill the camps, grumbling about the displeasure of the goddess, trying to hide their resentment. They trudged towards the east to face an unknown enemy, some having never held a spear in hand. 

“What if Enlil returns?” Horus asked, trying in vain to shield the advancing Egyptian army from dry heat of the desert. 

“He shouldn’t,” Isis said. “This is a fair fight. Man against man.”

“Some of the men wield a sword for the first time, mother,” Horus said doubtfully. He regarded the pendant as his neck again. Dusk was approaching. “Uncle would be able to overpower him,” he said. 

Isis glared at him. “Do you want to be ruler or not?” she spat. “You beat him, Horus. We held the trials, and you beat him. You can beat Enlil, if you would just focus on yourself, and not on that godforsaken murderer. He’s poisoned your mind.”

Horus sighed. Did he wish to rule? He did, but he was no fighter. If only he had a certain long-haired warrior by his side.

  
  



End file.
